Rating(s): M for some frottage
Word count: ~5000
Summary: "You have a cat named Quiche?" Frank burst out laughing as he leaned back against the doorframe. "Oh my god"
"Hey," Mikey deadpanned. "If I wanted to give something a boring, regular name, I'd have a baby."
A good 80% of the dates Frank has ever been on ended in disaster.
Like, there was the time he went out with this one girl who was funny and cute but wouldn’t let Frank order anything that didn’t have meat on the menu. And then there was the guy that picked his nose, which Frank maybe could’ve overlooked but he did it so blatantly. Like, he’d fucking shove his finger up there, mine for gold, and then, as if he couldn’t be grosser, he wiped it on the table or flicked it away where it could just land in anyone’s plate. Then there was this one dude who was totally awesome but after they slept together, he fucked off and never answered Frank’s calls, which was right around the time he found out the guy gave him chlamydia. Then there was the riot grrl revivalist who was almost cool except for the swastika tramp stamp, the guy that wanted Frank to pee on him, the guy who refused to fuck Frank unless his roommate could watch, and the guy who kept his eyes open while they made out. Not to mention the blind dates, one of which ended up with Frank hooking up with his ex-roommate’s twin sister.
The other 20% technically wasn’t all that much better. Things could be going great but his dogs always tended to be the deal-breaker.
Okay so, no one told Frank that being the metaphorical dog lady carried the same stigma as being a cat lady. He didn’t really give a shit what people thought of him and his dogs. They’re all rescue dogs; Sweet Pea was a day away from being put down when he got her and no one wanted Bela who was kind of mangy and had a chunk missing out of his ear. They were well trained, they didn’t stink up his house, they didn’t bark at all hours of the night, and they were cute as hell, all nine of them.
It just… kind of sucked, to constantly put himself out there and actually connect with a person, only to see them slowly lose interest or look at him weird after he tells them about his dogs.
Frank sighed as he turned the key in the lock, bracing himself to stave off some escape attempts. Sure enough, cacophony of whimpers and scratching nails sounded as he pushed the door open. Peppers immediately tried to zip past him.
“Haha! Foiled again,” Frank said as he nudged the tiny dog back with the toe of his vans, Bela trying to quietly edge past even though he was approximately seven times bigger than Peppers, ears included. Peppers just stared up at him with her big eyes, looking for all the world like she hadn’t had Frank chasing her down the street four different times. After some sneaky maneuvering that Frank has more or less mastered after chasing down many an escaped canine, he managed to get in without stepping on any tails. Of course the next problem was trying to trudge through 230 collective pounds of excited, hungry dog.
“If you guys could hold off on getting hair all over my nice pants, that’d be pretty cool.”
Frank’s entourage followed him into the bedroom where he stripped off one of his only button downs and his only pair of jeans without holes in them in favor of his old Rutgers sweat pants and a Minor Threat t-shirt. “See,” Frank started, “this right here is why no one wants to date me. I’m the weird guy that gets changed in front of his infantry of dogs.”
Sinatra the chunky pug just rolled over and looked at him with sad eyes. Frank’s sigh was put upon. “My life, so hard,” he muttered as he scooped Sinatra up. “Alright, time to make. Let’s roll.”
He let them outside into the backyard and watched as they all scampered about to do their business. Sinatra wriggled around in his arms so he lifted him up to face him. “You have to go too, fatty?”
Sinatra licked his nose.
“Okay, go poop.” He let the pug hop out of his arms.
Frank left the door open while he went in and filled up their bowls with kibble. Like, six of his dogs were already overweight so he’d been trying to get them onto a lower calorie brand but they didn’t like it so they would always steal the good brand from Bela and Peppers. One by one they started filing back in, tails wagging and tongues lolling. Let it never be said Frank doesn’t run a smooth ship.
Of course the moment they smelled food, they started flailing all over the place, their paws scrabbling around on the hardwood floor to get to their food bowls. Frank just laughed at Sweet Pea, shaking his head as she sniffed at her food disdainfully before scooting in next to Peppers and sharing from her bowl. The fun part of the night came when Frank had to pull on a pair of wellies and four hoodies to go scoop up the metric ton of dogshit on his lawn.
When they were all good and ready, they all trailed out of the kitchen and into the living room. Frank flopped down on the sofa and waited as the dogs situated themselves on the cushions, on him, and on the pillows he leaves scattered about for them. Today it was Daisy’s turn to sprawl across Frank’s chest. He was kind of regretting having a soft spot for fat little dogs because Daisy was currently crushing his ribs.
After everyone was situated, they settled in to watch Family Guy. Brian was his favorite, even if he was kind of pretentious. In his stoner days, Frank used to contemplate whether his dogs could talk to each other the way Stewie talks to Brian a lot. Looking down at Sinatra as he sat on Texas’ head, Frank thought probably not.
He dozed off like that, blanketed in snuffling dogs on his living room couch. He wasn’t asleep too long when Daisy’s stomach roiling roused him. Frank rolled his eyes and was about to push her off of him when he caught her whimpering against his neck.
The other dogs looked at him disdainfully as he sat up, stirring them from their sleep. “What’s the matter, Daisy?” he cooed. “Tummy ache?” Frank rolled her onto her back and rubbed at her gurgling belly. Daisy whined up at him but nuzzled back into him. “We’ll take you to see Mikey tomorrow, okay?”
All Mikey, the vet assistant down at the clinic, would tell him was that Daisy was fat, and Sweet Pea was fat, and Doctor Buckley was fat, and Mama was on her way to fat and to put them all on the damn low-calorie dog food but Mikey was smoking hot, so he could take the heat. Frank’s soft spot for hot guys that love animals was almost as big as his soft spot for his dogs. And nutella.
“Back so soon, Frankie?” Mikey said from the doorway.
Frank just held up Daisy. “Please don’t be mad!” he said in what he thought might pass for Daisy’s voice.
Mikey smiled. “One of the usual suspects, I see. Come on.”
Frank stood up, hitching Daisy up in his arms like a baby or a 21 pound cut of ham and followed Mikey out of the room. Instead of focusing on Mikey’s ass, he turned his attention to the scrubs Mikey was wearing scrubs with cartoon animals’ butts. “I like the elephants.”
‘Thanks. I like it, too. You almost can’t tell what it is. Is it an elephant’s ass? Is it a walrus flossing?” Mikey opened to the door to one of the checkup rooms.
Frank laughed as he set Daisy down. “You totally stole that from Family Guy. That episode was on last night.”
Mikey looked appropriately distraught. “Damn, I really thought I was gonna get away with that one. You set it up perfectly and everything.”
“I thought you were better than that, Mikey.”
“So I guess your date didn’t pan out last night?”
Frank blinked. “How’d you know I had a date last night?”
Mikey was pressing a stethoscope to Daisy’s chest. “I ran into Ray when I was at the shelter a couple days ago and he mentioned it.”
Frank didn’t answer for a minute, just watched Mikey as he plopped Daisy onto a scale holding treats over her nose and making unspeakably adorable faces that he most definitely would not recreate outside of the clinic.
“No luck with this one?”
“Nah,” Frank sighed. “No one wants to date a guy with nine dogs.”
“Is it really any weirder than dating a guy who likes getting peed on? Like, why the judgment?”
“That’s what I said! It’s not like I keep them around to dress them up in creepy costumes or, like, knit sweaters out of their fur, I adopt them because no one else wants them.”
“Hey, don’t judge,” Mikey said without looking up from the light he was shining in Daisy’s ear. “One of my cats is black from the nose up so she looks like Batman. I keep a cape tucked into her collar. And Quiche can really rock a Cat in the Hat costume.”
“You have a cat named Quiche?”
“And a runty one named Mini-Quiche.” Mikey pried Daisy’s lips apart so he could take a look at her teeth.
Frank snorted. “What’s Batcat’s name?”
Frank burst out laughing as he leaned back against the doorframe. “Oh my god.”
“Hey,” Mikey deadpanned. “If I wanted to give something a boring, regular name, I’d have a baby.”
The idea of Mikey having babies made Frank’s stomach clench. If anything, Mikey should be adopting weird looking puppies and dressing cats in costumes with him. But saying as much would probably make Mikey do that weird squinty-eyed thing he did when he was uncomfortable, like the time Pete chugged a bottle of his own piss or when Bert asked Mikey if he’d have a threesome with him and Gerard. And especially not now that he was dressed in sweatpants with the hole near his crotch, boots held together with mustache-printed duct tape, and what he thought was his Pussy Riot shirt in the dark that actually turned out to be his “I Heart My Weiner” shirt.
“Anyway,” Mikey began after a worryingly long time where Frank was pretty sure he was just staring at the other man, “don’t stress about it. Why even bother with anyone that doesn’t care about animals as much as you do?”
“It’s kind of starting to look like no one cares about animals as much as I do. Did I tell you about that one chick that wouldn’t let me go without trying beef jerky? I had to—“
“Fake an allergic reaction,” Mikey finished. “I remember.”
“What about Brian?”
“What about Brian?”
“When he first met Bob, he was totally creeped out by how much time Bob spent down at the kennel looking after the animals. But then he found out that Bob is just a giant marshmallow that cries every time when the egg freezes in March of the Penguins. And now they buy cruelty-free soap and eat facon every morning while watching reruns of Too Cute.”
“Huh,” Frank said. “Sometimes I forget how lame they are. But yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” At this point, Daisy’s checkup was long done and she was just lying there enjoying the belly rubs Mikey was spoiling her with. “Just like I was right about how Daisy need to lose some fucking weight. Didn’t you buy that dog food I told you about?”
Frank groaned and knocked his head against the wall. “I tried! But they all hate it! If anything, they’re getting fatter because they keep stealing the regular stuff from Sweat Pea and Bela who are probably wasting away as we speak.”
Mikey rolled his eyes but his disapproval was sort of tempered by the smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
“Fine, then exercise them more. All of them because I’m sure you have at least four dogs that can’t get back on their feet when they roll over.”
“I’m not sure I like how well you know me, Mikeyway.”
“Cry me a river. And Frank, if I see you carry that dog out of here, I swear I’m putting you on that low-calorie kibble.”
Frank made his eyes look all big and sad in that way that Gee said made him look like Peppers if Peppers was a four-foot tall Italian guido. “But just look at her!” he exclaimed as she looked over the edge of the table, waiting expectantly for Frank to carry her away. “How can you not want to carry around a face like that?”
Mikey just raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.
“Okay, look.” Frank scooped Daisy off the table and set her on the floor. He walked out into the hallway and crouched down in plain sight of her. “Daisy, come.”
Daisy just looked distraught.
“Come here, Daisy. Come on, girl!”
She sat down.
Frank raised up his hand making a gun out of his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t make me do it.”
Daisy continued not moving.
The little dog whimpered, one paw reaching up to bat around for a moment before she promptly fell over onto Mikey’s sneakers.
“I bet you’re expecting a treat for that spectacle, huh, chunky?”
Daisy pawed at his pant leg expectantly. Mikey just sighed and grabbed a dog treat out of the cupboard, tossing it over to Frank; Daisy was up in a flash, zipping into the hall.
His dogs doing cute tricks was inarguably Frank’s kryptonite. The baby talk was coming out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Who’s a smart puppy? Who’s a smart puppy, huh? You are!”
Daisy proceeded to lave Frank’s face with doggy kisses.
“This isn’t that kind of institution,” Mikey broke in. “I’m going to have ask you two to get a room.”
Frank stuck his tongue out at Mikey. “You wish you were me.”
“I don’t think so, Iero. I definitely saw her lick your teeth.”
Frank stood up and smiled up at Mikey. “I guess this is where we part ways, Mikeyway. Ha! Pun not intended.”
Mikey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, are you gonna be at Toro’s show on Friday?”
“Oh! I forgot about that. Yeah, you gonna be there?”
“Cool, I’ll see you then,” Frank said bouncing on the balls of his feet.
They walked out to the waiting room together. “Okay, so I don’t want to see those dogs any fatter than they are now, got it?”
“’Kay.” Mikey smiled at him from the waiting room doorway. “See you later, Frankie.”
Frank gave him a little wave. “Bye, Mikey.”
Frank didn’t turn away until Mikey disappeared behind the door. At the risk of looking like a weirdo just standing there, staring longingly at a closed door, he raised the doggy treat up and whistled at Daisy. “C’mon, Daisy Dukes. Time to go.”
Daisy eagerly hustled after him chasing after him in the parking lot until they got to his car. After stowing her away in the kennel, Frank snapped the treat in half and pushed a piece through the door. He put the rest of it back in his pocket.
“Yo, Bobert!”Frank hollered as he burst into the kennel. “Is Toro here?”
“What did I tell you about bursting in here yelling like a fool?” Bob yelled back from the backroom. “You’ll scare the new puppies.”
“Here, let me love them.” Instead of keeping all the animals penned up in separate cages, Bob tended to put some of the younger dogs in a roomier pen where they could charm people looking to find a new pet. Frank took advantage of this by jumping in the pen and rolling around with the puppies every time he visited. No sooner had his feet hit the ground than he was being accosted by wagging tails, floppy ears, and lolling tongues. He made a kissy face at them that immediately awarded him with puppy kisses.
“Ah! Bob, they tickle!” Frank flailed around as the excited balls of fur clambered all over him, fighting for his attention. “Bob! Save me!”
“Hey.” Bob poked his head over the edge of the pen. “Why are you harassing my puppies?”
Frank hid behind a golden retriever pup that kind of looked like Bob, come to think of it. “This dog totally looks like you. I bet you could convince Brian to adopt this one, too.”
Bob just mumbled something and turned kind of pink.
Frank sat up abruptly sending some of the puppies sprawling. “No you didn’t, Bob. Tell me you don’t have Brian so whipped that he adopted yet another dog because it sort of looks like you.”
“You have like, 900 dogs. I don’t even know why you’re judging.”
“Oh, I’m not judging.” To prove his point, Frank scooped up approximately five dogs and plopped them into his lap. “In fact, I fully approve of you guys adopting Bob jr. here. But you’ve totally just opened Brian up to ridicule on account of being pussy whipped. Wait! No, puppy whipped.”
Bob wrinkled his nose, the flush in his cheeks not receding one bit. “Did you come here to bug me or did you need something?”
“Actually, I’m on the hunt for Ray. I brought Daisy to the vet today and Mikey knew I had a date last night. He told me that Toro told him and I wanna know why.”
“Why does it matter so much?” he asked as he walked over to the kennel of ragdoll kittens.
“It’s just…weird, I guess. Why bring it up?”
Bob looked over at Frank as he cradled one of the smallest kittens of the litter. Bob always had a soft spot for runts. “It’s not weird. Mikey was asking about you and Ray just mentioned that you had a date.”
“Wait. Mikey was asking about me?”
“You are so transparent!” Brian yelled from the backroom. “Just ask him out already.”
“Fuck you,” Frank called back as he scratched behind a German Shepard’s ear. “Mind your furry boyfriend, huh, Brian?”
“Why don’t you ask him out already? You both totally have mutual boners for each other.”
“Mikey has a boner for me?”
Bob sighed. “Frank, this conversation is giving me a migraine. Just go the show on Friday, put your hand down his pants or whatever it is you do to charm people, and go at it in the bathroom like everyone else.”
“That’s how you wooed Brian, huh?” Frank asked as he stood up. He patted the puppies before he hopped out of the pen. “But what if he doesn’t—”
“I swear to god, if this is about your weird insecurity about your pack of dogs, I’m going to hit you in the mouth, Iero. Not only does Mikey deal with animals all day long, when he has free time, he comes here to volunteer. You know, where dogs are.”
“Okay, okay, I got it. I’ll man up.”
“Good. Now, I heard your dogs are getting fat. I swear to god, Frankie, if they get diabetes or fucking gout, I’m putting a shock collar on you.”
“And that’s my cue. See you later, Bobert!” And Frank was booking it out of there.
Friday night finally rolled around after three days of agonizing. Currently, Frank was trying to decide whether tonight called for Circle Jerks or the Misfits.
“What do you think guys?”
Peppers barked and started gnawing on the Misfits t-shirt.
“Yeah, that was a pretty dumb question, huh?” Frank said as he pulled the shirt away from her. “What about belts? Pink or studded?” He held up both. “Professor Buckley? Hey boy? Which one is, huh? Which one is it?”
Professor Buckley, a bull dog mix that pretty much towered over the rest of the dogs, wagged his tail excitedly, crouching down as Frank got him worked up.
“Go pick one, go get it!” Frank pitched both belts into the hall and Professor Buckley went shooting after them. The rest of dogs went after him, yapping as they nipped at his heels. When Professor Buckley came back, he was happily toting the studded belt. Houdini came in behind him with the pink belt between his teeth, Sweet Pea being dragged along by the end of it.
“Professor says the studded belt. Good choice.” It took a little bit of sweet talking and some wrestling on his part but he managed to get the belt away from Professor Buckley. “Houdini, you get to pick the jacket. Denim or leather?” he flailed them around in the air. “Go get it, Houdini, go!”
Frank hadn’t felt this nervous about going to a club since he was 15 and he needed a fake ID that said he was fucking 16 just to get in.
“Frankie!” Gerard yelled from the bar. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Hey, Gee. Sorry, the dogs were playing keep away with my clothes.”
“It’s all good.” Gerard gestured at the barmaid to bring Frank a beer. “They’re gonna start in a minute. Mikey’s just back there helping them set up.”
Frank briefly wondered if his crush on Mikey was so apparent, his brother could see it. But Gerard started chatting at him about art and comics and whatever else popped into his head, so he was probably good. He was going on about the Andy Warhol exhibit down at the Met and how Warhol was a hack who’s only fame stemmed from Marilyn Monroe prints, not any legitimate artistic or creative merit when Mikey popped in, leaning his chin on Gerard’s head.
“Frank’s eyes are glazing over. Cut the guy some slack, Gee.”
Gerard looked up and kissed the point of Mikey’s chin. “You know I’m right, though.”
“I dunno, man. I really dig that ‘Torso From Behind’ print.”
“That’s just because that guy had a nice ass, admit it.”
Mikey sat down on Gerard’s lap and looked right at Frank when he said, “Yeah, he kind of does.”
Frank started playing with the label on his beer just to have something to do that wasn’t dragging Mikey over to him and kissing him senseless. Fortunately, the band chose that moment to come out on stage and Frank was saved from having to actually be smooth.
Or so he thought. The lights had barely dimmed when Mikey grabbed the beer out of Frank’s hands, chugged it, and pulled Frank to his feet. “Come on, I wanna dance.”
“Umm, this isn’t exactly dance music.”
Mikey just shrugged and grabbed Frank’s sweaty hand. “Dance with me, Frankie.”
And how could he say no to that? He nodded, trying not to look like he might puke on Mikey.
Mikey smiled and started dragging Frank away. Frank valiantly pretended he couldn’t hear Gerard’s call of “Play safe, kids!”
Mikey slogged the two of them through the tightly packed mass of sweaty bodies. He pulled them forward until they could barely move, no space left between their bodies. Obviously Mikey was trying to kill him because he reached back and grabbed Franks arm and wrapped it around his waist before he started moving his body.
Frank’s breath shuddered out of him as Mikey’s fingers traced over his tattoos, his other arm raised above his head as he moved to the beat of the music. Frank couldn’t stop himself from moving his hand down to brush over the strip of skin between the hem of his shirt and his torturously tight jeans.
They moved like that for a long time. Mikey would press his hips back against Frank’s his hands reaching back no and again to pull him closer, and Frank would slip his fingers ever so slightly into the waistband of Mikey’s jeans to tease at his hipbones, his forehead pressing against the sweat-dampened plane of Mikey’s back.
Time got away from them both. The set had to be at least half done and yet Frank couldn’t recall a single song they’d play. To be fair though, Toro was the only one up there really worth watching. When there was a lull between songs, Mikey suddenly twisted around and grabbed Frank’s elbow and began dragging him away from the stage. Frank was so surprised he barely kept his feet and he definitely inadvertently smacked some people in the face as he tried not to fall on his.
When they’d finally gotten somewhere where the air wasn’t stifling, Frank opened his mouth to ask Mikey what the fuck he was doing when he slammed Frank up against the wall.
“Hey, Frankie,” Mikey murmured as he leaned his arms on either side of Frank’s head, caging him between his arms.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“You’ve been so jumpy around me. What’s the matter?”
Frank swallowed around the lump in his throat, his pulse jackrabbitting through his veins. “I’m not jumpy.” He could barely force the words out, too caught up with the dark look in Mikey’s eyes.
Mikey stared back at him unflinchingly. “It’s come to my attention that I haven’t been clear enough about certain things.”
Frank didn’t say anything, just watched as Mikey’s eyes slipped down to watch his mouth; Frank licked his lips before he could stop himself.
Mikey’s mouth fell into a surprised little “o” and that was it. Frank surged forward before his brain could catch up with the rest of him, crushing his mouth against Mikey’s.
He didn’t waste any time before kissing Frank back hard, his hands tangling in the shorter man’s hair. The kiss was messy and harsh, their teeth clacking together as they shifted frantically against one another.
Frank barely knew what to do with himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hitch his leg up around Mikey’s hip or stick his hand down his pants or turn them around so Mikey was the one pressed against the wall. In the end, he shifted enough so that he could press his thigh between Mikey’s legs. Mikey moaned into Frank’s mouth their lips breaking away with a soft pop as he arched into the friction against his dick.
“Oh god, Frankie.” He leaned back in to kiss Frank again and again, lingering little kisses that were making Frank dizzy as he tried to keep up Mikey’s frantic pace. “Come home with me?” He whispered against Frank’s cheek before kissing him again.
Frank nodded desperately, his hands scrabbling under Mikey’s shirt to drag down his back. Mikey gasped brokenly and buried his face against Frank’s throat, his mouth immediately latching onto his scorpion tattoo.
That’s how they stumbled out of the club, mouths caught together, hands dipping under clothes. They made out against the outside of the club for fifteen minutes, this time with Mikey trapped against the wall, before they could let go of each other long enough to hail a cab, which they continued making out in until they got to Mikey’s apartment which was closer.
“Frankie. Frank, hold on a second,” Mikey said as Frank shoved him up against his apartment door.
Frank mumbled something against Mikey’s mouth but didn’t stop kissing him. Mikey just rolled his eyes and twisted around to unlock the door. “Be careful of the cats.”
Frank knew Mikey was a cat person but he definitely wasn’t prepared to be accosted by a cluster of meowing fuzzballs. “Geez, how many cats do you have?” Frank queried as he stuck his hands up Mikey’s shirt, making a pleased little sound when he shivered at his touch.
Mikey hummed as he pushed the cats back, easing them both into the apartment in the same practiced manner Frank was accustomed to using with his dogs. “There’s Danzig, Mittens, Bunny, Quiche, Mini-Quiche, Miss Bruce, Quahog, Bilbo, Freckles, and this new guy right here.” Mikey proceeded to scoop up the smallest cat of the bunch, probably no more than five or six weeks old. It was one of the ragdoll kittens from Bob’s litter down at the kennel. “I just got him the other day. I think I’m gonna name him Twiggy because of reasons.”
If Frank was being completely honest, watching Mikey wax poetic over his cats didn’t really rank that high compared to a lot of the other things he’d wanted to be doing to Mikey, even if it was fucking adorable. But it was right then that Frank established that they were made for each other.
“So, wait,” Frank began. “You’re telling me you have ten cats.”
“Yeah, that sounds right,” Mikey affirmed as he let Twiggy go.
“You adopted ten cats.”
“Fucking marry me, Mikeyway.” Frank proceeded to knock Mikey to the floor, kissing him dumb. Frank wanted to be weirded out that he was humping Mikey in front of a sizeable audience of the feline variety but he couldn’t be bothered.
Mikey’s hands were both shoved down Frank’s jeans when he managed to gasp out “Bed. Let’s go to bed. You never really recover from that moment when a cat gets too close to your bare ass.”
When they got upstairs, Mikey shooed away Freckles and Danzig who were sprawled across the bed before he was yanking down Frank’s pants. “Get these off already.”
Frank happily complied, shedding his clothes while Mikey stripped down, too. They both moaned when they came back together bare skin against skin. Mikey’s hands grabbed at Frank’s ass and he pushed their hips together.
“Jesus fuck, Mikey, I’m gonna come in two more fucking seconds if you keep that up.”
“You hear me complaining?” Mikey grunted against Frank’s jaw. He licked his palm and shoved it down between their bodies. He used his thumb to smear the precome over the tip of Frank’s dick before wrapping his wide hand around both of their cocks and jacking them both off. No build up or steady pace, just wet skin sliding furiously around them. Frank couldn’t stop bucking his hips into Mikey’s hand, his breaths coming out in great gasps.
“Fuck, I’m almost there,” Frank hissed his hands clawing down Mikey’s back.
Mikey gasped brokenly before coming between their bellies, his hand jerking as his orgasm bowled him over. When he felt himself coming down, Mikey let his spent cock go and resumed jacking Frank off until he was spurting all over the sheets.
They both laid their contently, exchanging kisses until Frank felt something brush against his arm. “Eww, Mikey. Your cats are pervs.”
“I bet your dogs do weird things like peek in on you when you’re in the shower with someone.”
“The ‘with someone’ is generally optional.”
“See, you’ll fit right in with us.”
Frank leaned over and pulled up the sheet over their gross wet spots because cats tromping through his come was a level of ick Frank didn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole. The cats took this as their cue for cuddle time because Mittens was suddenly nuzzling in between their chests while Mini-Quiche started fighting Frank over his pillow.
Mikey yawned. “Comfy?”
Frank was already asleep, the purring all around him lulling him into the dark.